Don't Go Away Mad (Burgers and Brew Crüe Book 2) Page 14

  “Oh yeah,” Dustin confirms, taking another sip of his juice. “I think he didn’t realize his tongue was supposed to go in her mouth.”

  My brother and Jasper laugh hard, at my expense, nonetheless. “Why are we talking about this?”

  “Because I just walked in and caught you sucking face with Jasper,” my brother points out.

  “He was helping me with my burn!” I insist.

  He looks at me skeptically. “You burned your tongue?”

  I sigh dramatically. “No, my hand.” I hold it up to prove my point. “But it’s fine. It’s only a little burn.”

  “Good thing Jasper was here to help you,” Dustin says, nodding toward the man standing with me. “I mean, at least you know your tonsils are good.”

  Jasper barks out a laugh and shakes his head. “I should head out. You have to get up early in the morning,” he says, finally stepping out of my personal space. The only problem is I miss him there the moment he’s gone.

  “Thanks for driving me home,” I blurt out quickly, following behind as he heads for the front door.

  “It was the least I could do. Thanks for helping out in the kitchen.” Jasper toes on his shoes, bending over to tie the laces, his ass pointed my way and looking very nice in his khakis. When he stands back up, he adds, “We make a great team.”

  I feel a ball of something lodge in my throat. We did work well together today, preparing dishes on a busy Friday night. It didn’t take me long to figure out his system. It was efficient, much like the man himself. He definitely knows his way around a kitchen.

  And his way around your mouth…

  “We do,” I agree as he slips his coat on and reaches for the doorknob.

  “Good night, Dustin. Sorry if we woke you,” Jasper says over my shoulder, offering my brother a friendly grin.

  “Good to see you again, Jasper, even if you were making out with my sister.”

  Kill. Me. Now.

  But Jasper just takes it in stride, not even appearing the least bit sorry for being caught kissing me. He steps forward, once again invading my personal space, and whispers, “Take care of that burn. Make sure you put more ointment on it again.” His eyes are intense and full of desire, something I will forever associate with this man. Just one look, and he turns me into a puddle on the floor.

  My throat is so dry, as if I’ve spent days in the desert without a lick of water. “I will,” I finally spit out.

  He leans down and brushes a soft kiss across my cheek. “Your tonsils are definitely good,” he murmurs, referring to my brother’s earlier comment.

  And…cue the blush.

  Jasper walks out the door, heading for his car, and waves before slipping inside. Once it’s started and backing out of the driveway, I close the door, making sure it’s locked securely. As I turn around, I startle, coming face-to-face with Dustin.

  And he’s smiling.

  “What?” I ask grumpily.

  My brother is leaning against the doorjamb, wearing a big, goofy grin. “Nothing.”

  I roll my eyes and walk past him, eager to clean up the tea mess so I can go to bed. Not that I’ll be doing much sleeping tonight. Not with that kiss still replaying in my mind.

  After wiping up the spilled tea with a wet cloth, I toss it in the hamper and flip off the lights, only to find Dustin still standing in the doorway, watching. I can practically see the wheels in his head spinning. “Say it.”

  “Say what?” he asks, the corner of his lips twitching.

  “Whatever it is you want to say. I’ve been up since three thirty, and I’d really like to go to bed.”

  “Go,” he replies, taking a step back from the doorway.

  “Thank you,” I mumble, stopping and giving him a kiss on the cheek as I pass. “Good night.”

  “Night,” he practically hums behind me. As I reach my slightly ajar door, he asks, “Hey, Lyn?”

  When I turn to look his way, he gets this huge grin on his face and sings, “Jasper and Lyndee, sitting in a tree…”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Jasper

  The bell above the door chimes, signaling my arrival. As I step into the bakery, I’m assaulted with the familiar scents I will forever associate with Lyndee. Cinnamon and sugar. The space in the front of the bakery is busy, with all tables filled with locals enjoying donuts, pastries, and cups of hot coffee.

  I step in line and watch as the girl at the counter, Dustin, and even Lyndee bustle around, filling orders. Dustin glances up to check the line and notices me. He offers a quick wave before moving to the display case to retrieve something sweet from within. I notice the limp as he slips around the space with the use of his walker, wondering how long it’ll be before he needs to move to his wheelchair. I’ve only seen him use it a couple of times, but I know Lyndee keeps one here if necessary.

  We slowly move forward, and my eyes can’t help but seek her out. It’s not the rolls or the fresh bread that calls to me. It’s the woman in khaki pants and a light green shirt. Her brown hair is pulled tight and fastened high on her head. Her brown eyes sparkle as she converses with customers, pouring a cup of coffee and grabbing a carton of chocolate milk from the small cooler on the back wall. My eyes can’t help but drop to her ass when she bends over.

  I almost groan out loud, her ass is so fucking nice.

  “Can I help you?”

  I glance up and realize the girl behind the counter is talking to me. She offers me a shy smile as I step up. “Hi. I’ll take a large black coffee and one of those blueberry fritter things.”

  “Hi.” Lyndee is standing beside her employee, a hesitant little grin on her lips.

  Lips I kissed just last night.

  Lips I want to kiss again as soon as possible.

  “Morning,” I reply, returning her smile. “How’s your hand?” I ask casually and quietly.

  “Oh, it’s good,” she answers, holding up her hand. “See? No pink.”

  I chuckle as she turns to pour my cup of coffee. “Careful or you’ll burn yourself,” I instruct, more out of mischief than worry she’d really burn herself a second time.

  Lyndee glances over her shoulder and narrows her eyes. “I got it.”

  Her sass makes my dick hard.

  “I got it,” she says to her employee as she moves to the register and sets my cup on the counter, securing the to-go lid on the top.

  “How much?” I ask when she makes no move to ring up my purchases.

  “On the house,” she whispers, sliding the bagged pastry and my coffee toward me.

  “Business 101, sweets. Nothing is ever on the house,” I state, reaching into my pocket for my wallet.

  “You tried giving me food last night,” she counters, crossing her arms over her chest. My eyes are instantly drawn to the way her tits push up and against the material.

  “Yes, but that was because you worked in the kitchen. It was the least I could do,” I point out, pulling out a twenty.

  “Potato, po-tah-toe. You helped me before I opened. Plus, you took me home last night,” she counters, refusing to take the twenty I hold out.

  My mind latches on to the took her home part, wishing it had ended with a much happier ending than it did.

  But I’m not complaining. This thing—whatever the hell it is—with Lyndee is complicated, but enjoyable. I’ve never expected to have this much fun with a woman, especially one I found utterly annoying in college. Not like Janice from Friends annoying, but her continual need to one-up me, always trying to get the best.

  Now, I find her fascinating.

  And sexy as fuck.

  I grab the ink pen on the counter, realizing I’m holding up the line. She’s still making no move to take my money, so I pull a business card from my wallet, jot my number and a brief note on the back, and drop it, along with the twenty, into the tip jar. “Thanks for breakfast, sweets. See you tomorrow night at my place,” I say as I grab my purchases. The employee is standing directly beside Lyndee now, so I throw her a w
ink, watching her cheeks blush.

  “Have a nice day,” the young woman hollers as I turn around, making me chuckle. No, I’m not interested in her—she’s way too young for my taste—but I’m a natural flirt, and I did actually enjoy witnessing the flash of annoyance dance through Lyndee’s eyes.

  “Later, Dustin,” I bellow as I reach the door, throwing a wave to my new friend and smiling when he returns the gesture.

  Outside, the cold air hits me square in the face, but I barely feel it. Instead, I feel lighter, happier now that I’ve seen Lyndee. I fully expect a busier than hell Saturday, but for some reason, just spending a few minutes with her before work has me anxious and ready to tackle the day.

  I’m sure it has nothing to do with the fact I’ll be seeing her tomorrow too, when she and Dustin come to my place for dinner.

  Nothing at all.

  Keep telling yourself that.

  ***

  “Hey!” Numbers hollers as the front door closes. A few seconds later, he adds, “Damn, it smells amazing in here,” as he enters the kitchen.

  “Thanks.” I glance up and give him a smile, only to have it falter just a touch when I see the woman at his side.

  “You remember Savannah, right?” Numbers asks, knowing full well I do. He reaches for her coat and takes it once she removes the outerwear.

  “Yes, of course. Nice to see you again, Savannah,” I reply cordially, doing everything I can to not actually roll my eyes.

  I love Isaac like a brother. He’s one of my best friends, and I’d trust him with my life. But he’s unable to see how unfit Savannah is for him. It pisses me off how she uses him, and he gets his hopes up that their relationship will stick this time around. Like Jameson said before, we’re tired of watching him get his heart broken time and time again.

  Speaking of, I wonder if Jameson knows she’s coming. I mean, no one needs approval to bring a woman to one of our small gatherings, but I find it odd that Numbers didn’t at least mention it prior to tonight. Unless he knew we’d give him a hard time about her presence, especially after the spat he had with Jameson over her.

  “Thanks for inviting me,” she states with a little too much sugar behind her words.

  I glance at Numbers as he returns from hanging their coats in the foyer closet, my eyebrows drawn up in question. He gives me a look, one that says to be nice and not start shit with her. I, of course, ignore the look and reach for my beer. “So, Savannah. What have you been up to lately?”

  “I just finished decorating the Masters mansion on Park Place. You know the one, right?” she asks, taking the glass of red wine Isaac pours for her.

  “I do. Nice place. Isn’t that caught up in a nasty divorce right now? The one with the cheating husband?”

  The color falls from her face. Sure, I’m being vindictive, but I don’t care.

  “I hope you got paid before everything blew up with that scandal,” I add for good measure.

  Numbers sighs.

  Savannah looks like she’s going to throw up.

  I want to laugh in her face and apologize to my friend at the same time for bringing it up.

  Four months ago, Savannah pulled another of her famous “I just don’t see this going anywhere long term” bullshit excuses and ran straight into the arms of a married man. The very one she was working for. John Masters. His wife found out her husband was screwing the designer she hired to redecorate the entire first floor of the seven thousand square foot home, and promptly filed for divorce.

  Especially since there was no prenup.

  Unfortunately for John, he made his fortune after marrying the young Miss Ohio in 1986, leaving himself wide open for sharing everything he made right down the middle. Rumor has it, once the affair came to light, he dumped Savannah in hopes of reconciling with his wife. I haven’t heard whether or not that happened, but the fact remains: Savannah’s only into Isaac until something bigger comes along.

  And I hate her.

  Another knock sounds on the front door, saving us from the awkward conversation we were embarking on. My first thought is Jameson, until I near the little feet pounding on the hardwood. A smile instantly spreads across my face, and I set my spoon down on the counter.

  “Lizard!” I holler the moment her small body breaches the doorway and launches at the first unofficial uncle she finds.

  “Is it time for pwesents?” she asks Isaac, big hopeful green eyes cast his way.

  “I told you we have to eat dinner first,” Mallory reminds her daughter, giving her a stern look.

  “I don’t understand why we have to wait. I mean, if Lou wants to open presents, why not just get them out of the way?” Walker asks, following behind his girlfriend.

  Mallory sighs, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. “Because it’s a strategic parenting technique to ensure a child eats all of his or her dinner. We went over this, Walker. If she opens presents first, then she’ll refuse to eat any food.”

  “I not!” Lizzie proclaims, reaching for me next. The moment she’s in my arms, she whispers, “Pwease, Uncle Jasper? I’ve been weally dood all day!” Little hands wrap around my neck as she brushes a kiss on my cheek.

  My heart literally turns to mush—in a very manly way, of course.

  “Awww, why you gotta be so mean to Lizard?” I ask her mom, earning an eye roll.

  “You men are all the same. She has you completely wrapped around her fingers,” Mallory grumbles, heading over to the fridge to grab a bottle of water.

  I glance at Lizzie, who bats her little eyelashes at me, and I know I’m completely smitten. “One wouldn’t hurt, right?” I whisper.

  Her eyes light up instantly as she shakes her head, little blonde ringlets flying about.

  “Come on, little one. Let’s go see what’s in the office,” I murmur.

  “Where are you going?” Mallory asks, eyeing us suspiciously.

  “Nowhere.”

  “To duh office!” Lizzie proclaims, pointing down the hallway.

  I have a handful of gifts—okay, way more than I probably should—under the tree, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to resist giving her one gift early. Once we’re in the room, I set her down and grab the wrapped item on my desk and hand it to her. I drop to my knees and watch as she holds the gift in her hands, her eyes so full of young wonder and amazement. “Tan I open it now?”

  “Of course! That’s why I brought you in here,” I tell her.

  Lizzie drops to her butt, the small package on her lap, as she rips into the paper. She looks down at the book about princesses and grins. “Tan you wead it to me?”

  I give her a big smile. “I’d love to after I finish cooking dinner, okay?” The front door opens and closes, heavy boots falling on the hardwood floor. “Actually, Tank just got here. I bet he’d love to read it to you,” I tell her, referring to Jameson. Lizzie can’t say his first name, so she refers to him by his nickname.

  “Yay!” she bellows, jumping up and taking off running, book in her hand. “Tank!”

  Chuckling, I hop up and follow in her wake. Just as I step into the hallway, there’s a gentle knock on the front door. A smile instantly spreads across my face.

  Making my way to the door, I pull it open and find my two guests standing on the stoop. “Welcome,” I greet, stepping back so Lyndee and Dustin can enter.

  “It just started to snow,” Lyndee states, shaking the snowflakes out of her hair and stomping her boots onto the mat, even though there’s no snow gathered yet.

  “Let me take that,” I offer, reaching for the large containers of sweet treats. I can tell by the scent of sugar wafting from within.

  Dustin steps in, carrying his walker in his hands. I’m assuming it was so he wouldn’t coat the wheels with wetness. “Hey, Jasper. It smells amazing in here,” he says, stepping out of the way and taking off his coat.

  “Throw your coats in that closet,” I say, nodding to the space behind me. “We’re in the kitchen.”

  They both take off t
heir winter coats and hang them up before following me to where all my friends are gathered. “You guys remember Lyndee and Dustin, right?”

  “Hey!” everyone cheers, a few heading over to greet her with a hug.

  My friends are assholes.

  “Lyndee, Dustin, this is Savannah,” Numbers says, holding out a hand to the woman beside him. Clearly, she’s too busy on her phone to stop typing for one second to greet the last guests to arrive.

  “Nice to meet you,” Lyndee says pleasantly.

  “You too,” Savannah replies, barely glancing up to offer a smile.

  Dustin heads over to Jameson, who’s seated at the kitchen table, Lizzie on his lap. She instantly starts telling him all about her new book, pretending to read him the story, even though she can’t read the words.

  “I think you know everyone else, right?” I ask Lyndee as she steps up beside me and starts opening the containers I placed on the counter.

  “I think so,” she says, a hint of nervousness in her reply.

  “Well, make yourself at home. Anything you want, it’s yours. I was just going to put the appetizers on the island. There’s wine and beer in the fridge.”

  “I probably shouldn’t drink,” she mumbles, more to herself than to anyone in the room.

  “Hey, go ahead and have one. There’ll be plenty of time between now and when you leave. Plus, you’ll have appetizers and dinner. One drink won’t hurt. Everyone will have a few early and then switch to something non-alcoholic later.”

  She considers my words, and I can’t help but wonder if she’ll actually do it. According to Dustin, she never drinks if there’s a chance she’ll have to get behind the wheel.

  “And if you don’t feel comfortable driving home, you guys can stay here. I have a guest room upstairs and a fold-out couch in my office,” I state, trying to hide any excitement I might feel at that prospect. Of course, in my mind, she’s curling up under the comforter in my bed, not in the guest room.

  “I suppose one won’t hurt,” she concedes. “It’s still early, and I’ll have plenty of food in my belly before I leave.”